


Spes Ardens

by InNovaFertAnimus



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Blood, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Captivity, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Linear Narrative, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 03:52:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16442480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InNovaFertAnimus/pseuds/InNovaFertAnimus
Summary: The phoenix down is just there under his clothes, feeling slightly warmer than his skin. Having it on becomes a new part of ordinary, like his wristband. Absence would be horrifying, but the presence is nothing notable.Until it isn’t.Written for the Hurt Noct Week Day 5: Teenage Noctis phoenix down’d after an assassination attempt.





	Spes Ardens

**Author's Note:**

> I started this for the prompt "Teenage Noctis phoenix down’d after an assassination attempt." It's not quite that, but close enough. 
> 
> Rated Mature to be on the safe side. I can't estimate levels of angst anymore. 
> 
> No beta we die like Noctis.

 “-pto?”

Ignis’ voice startles him out of his thoughts. Sitting up straight he notices they are already at his house.

“There is something I need to talk to you about.”

Here it comes. Prompto’s heart picks up speed.

“Yeah?”

His voice already sounds strange in his ears. He has the sudden urge to apologize. He hasn’t been a particularly bad influence, right? At least he hopes that. And to be fair, Noctis has even more and worse ideas than he does. His are just the lesser evil, really.

Ignis looks back out of the windshield. The rain falls heavier now, the sound of the drops hitting the glass fills the silence. The few moments before Ignis turns back to him again feel like ages.

“It’s been about half a year since you’ve befriended Noctis, isn’t it?”

Prompto nods wordlessly. If he wanted to apologize a moment before, he’s now ready to beg for forgiveness at Ignis’ feet. It would be easier if he knew what for. Every little instant he more or less bent the rules with Noctis comes to his mind. Nothing really sticks out to him as especially awful, but maybe it doesn’t have to be. Maybe the amount of little things combined is enough.

Ignis hums thoughtfully.

“While your appearance was quite sudden, and surprising to say the least, we do believe that having a friend outside the citadel is beneficial for Noctis.”

He looks at Prompto almost fondly, but it doesn’t help with the dread rising in Prompto’s gut. “We think you make a fine addition to his social circle. While Gladio and I are still Noctis’ friends, we are all aware that Noctis is also a part of the duty we have to fulfill. It is difficult at times, so we are glad that Noctis has someone uninvolved in the Citadel’s business at his side.”

When Ignis pauses right there, Prompto already knows what Ignis is going to tell him next. It doesn’t make it hurt less.

“However, there’s only so much time Noctis can afford to spend with someone uninvolved.”

The words echo in Prompto’s head. He should have seen this coming, shouldn’t he? The corners of his eyes already start to burn, but he can’t lose it in front of Ignis. It’s embarrassing enough that Prompto thought this could work out, that he of all people could keep the company of the next rulers of Lucis. 

What is he going to say to Noctis? He can’t just go to school on Monday and pretend he doesn’t know him. Should he make up an excuse? He can’t exactly tell him his friends forbade him to spend more time with him. Noctis would be _crushed_ , but-

“So the king agreed to change your status from a civilian to a person of interest to the crown.”

-they can’t make Prompto lie though, can they? Noctis is going to see through it anyway, simply because Prompto plans to cry through the whole weekend and his eyes will be red for the rest of-

Prompto blinks up at Ignis, the words finally registering.

“What?”

Ignis still wears that small smile, making Prompto dare to trust he understood Ignis just right.

“I’m sorry if I made you worry with all this.” He gestures around the interior of the car. “I thought it might be wise to talk to you in private about it first, since Noctis is a bit touchy lately about the Citadel’s involvement in his private life. It takes some work to get that status approved officially and it will affect certain aspects of your daily routine, so there’s some time before you have to make a final decision.”

As if Prompto hasn’t already decided before he knew there was a decision.

“What do I have to do?”

If Ignis notices the hitch in his breath, he is kind enough to ignore it. Ignis reaches over to open the console on Prompto’s side.

“At first you’ll just make an appointment at the Citadel with Marshal Leonis. He’s going to fit you with some equipment, mostly hidden panic buttons with GPS. The protocol briefings and emergency response training can be easily scheduled around your usual routine. Security of the royal family has always highest priority.”

Ignis pulls out a card from the console and hands it to Prompto. It’s black and neat with the insignia of the crown, a number and the name _Leonis_ spelled out in golden letters beneath it.

Leonis. As in Cor Leonis, marshal of the Crownsguard. As in Cor Leonis, the Immortal. After hanging out with the crown prince almost daily, the prospect of meeting the marshal shouldn’t be as exciting as it is. Or anxiety inducing, Prompto can’t quite decide.

This talk turns out so different from what he imagined it to be, it makes him dizzy. So, does he just call the Immortal and ask him if he’s free on Tuesday?

“Yes, you do. He is terrible at returning texts.”

Prompto nods, still staring at the card in his hands, too stunned to even be embarrassed to have asked that aloud.

“One last thing.”

The sudden change of Ignis tone makes Prompto snap out if his stupor. He looks up to see Ignis reach into his jacket. What he pulls out looks like some sort of key-chain, a tiny red feather sealed in glass or hard plastic. It looks ordinary, even cheap on the first glance, but there’s a strange glow to it, as if the color flares for a moment but it’s too short to be sure about it.

“Do you know what this is?”

Prompto has never seen anything quite like it, but the fact that Ignis is the one showing it to him clues him in.

“A phoenix down?”

Ignis nods approvingly.

“Technically yes, but as you can see it is only the top part of the plume. It’s not as powerful as a whole phoenix down of course, but it is enough to revive someone who died recently. Revive in this case means mostly that, not much more, so immediate medical attention might still be necessary. The marshal will explain it to you in greater detail, I’m sure.”

Prompto swallows once. Ignis doesn’t have to explain why he was giving it to him. Gladio looming over them in public spaces makes it hard to forget that there are indeed people who would harm Noctis given the chance, maybe even harm those around them, if they can’t get through to him. Still, being prepared to actually bring somebody back to life is something else entirely. Alone the fact that this is a scenario likely enough to fit Prompto with a mini phoenix down just in case gives him chills.

Something has to show on his face, because Ignis tilts his head slightly, looking at him thoughtfully.

“I don’t want to scare you with this. You can still change your mind-“

Prompto snatches the down out of Ignis hands.

“No, I’m in.”

Until the end and beyond that, if he has to be.

 

The makeshift necklace he made from a thin cord of leather lets the phoenix down hang low on his sternum. Noctis comments on it on Monday, but only on how tacky it is. Prompto doesn’t think Noctis knows what he is looking at, because when Prompto mentions his appointment with the marshal the next day, Noctis is grumpy for a whole week. After that, he doesn’t feel very inclined to bring it up. The down becomes a fixture fast. Most of the time Prompto is only mildly aware that it’s more than what it looks like, just another random charm in the growing collection Prompto denies he has.

 

The marshal does explain it in greater detail, when Prompto finally manages to pay attention to more than the fact that Cor Leonis the Immortal really has made time for him. Phoenix downs are some sort of last resort, usually used when close to death or already deceased, but timing is critical. Technically yes, you can revive someone hours later, but the brain damage would be too heavy for the phoenix down to actually bring them back.

Prompto swallows, his hand finding the down around his neck unconsciously. “How long then?”

The marshal shrugs. “Depends, but over three minutes can already be dangerous. Five minutes is pushing it. Beyond that, it’s over.”

 

A few months later Ignis tells him he doesn’t need to keep it anymore and gives him a watch with some fancy magic component instead. It’s supposed to be a short term solution until Prompto gets access to the Armiger. It takes Prompto almost two weeks to memorize all the possible functions and what buttons to press in which order to use it. He doesn’t take off the down though. Despite how scary even thinking about using it is, it’s also weirdly reassuring. It’s just there under his clothes, feeling slightly warmer than his skin. Having it on becomes a new part of ordinary, like his wristband. Absence would be horrifying, but the presence is nothing notable.

Until it isn’t.

 

_October 27 th, 21:39_

Prompto comes to with his wrists and feet bound on a hard floor. His head hurts, his side feels like a giant bruise and his stomach is rolling dangerously. There’s something in his mouth, maybe a ball of clothes, he doesn’t know. For a few minutes he just lies there, trying not to throw up, so he won’t choke himself on his own vomit. As his head starts to clear, he listens to his surroundings. He wonders if there is something stuffed in his ears, too, because there’s nothing but silence. Taking a chance, he opens his eyes.

He finds himself in what could be an office building. There is barely any furniture. Large windows run along one wall, facing another building just like theirs. Some of the window planes are cracked, letting in the cold night air. Prompto tries to piece together how much time he missed, when he hears a small sound. It takes a moment for Prompto to recognize the whimper, recognize the voice.

He can’t help but to turn his head.

His breath catches instantly.

Noctis is kneeling by the wall, his head hanging on his chest. His arms are bound behind his back and pulled up by a hook, making him bow over. There’s something at his shoeless feet, but Prompto can’t see what it is. His clothes are torn, the shreds of his shirt only not slipping down because of the odd angle his shoulders are held up.

Noctis’ face is turned away, but the tips of his fingers are twitching. It can’t take long for him to wake up as well.

A door behind him opens.

It takes all of Prompto’s willpower to shut his eyes again. He doesn’t see what kind of advantage there was to it, if the people who took them think he’s still out for maybe one minute longer, helpless as he is. If they were watching them, he would have already given himself away.

Someone enters the room. The steps don’t falter as they pass Prompto, so he dares to blink. The splitsecond is enough to make out the back of a man, so he carefully opens his eyes again. A wide leather coat hides most of his body. His short, dark hair is unremarkable from behind. Grabbing one of the old chairs in passing, the man drags it over to where Noctis is kneeling, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. The legs of the chair screech horribly across the ground. Prompto’s shoulders draw up reflexively in an attempt to cover his ears.  

The noise is loud enough to make Noctis stir. With a small sound he lifts his head, blinking slowly.

The chair is placed directly in front of Noctis. Instead of sitting down, the man takes out a small laptop and sets it up. He pulls out something else, a case of some sorts, and places it next to the laptop.  

Roughly the man grabs Noctis’ jaw and forces his face up.

The chains rattle as Noctis tries to twist out of the grip, but the binds are too tight. Reaching for the case, the man pulls out a syringe with clear liquid. Noctis struggles harder.

The needle sinks into Noctis’ neck a moment later. The man takes his time with emptying the contents into Noctis’ bloodstream. The syringe isn’t even empty yet when Prompto can see Noctis’ fighting cease. The man removes the needle before stepping away. Without the support Noctis’ head rolls back to his chest, a breathless groan escaping his lips. He sways in place, the chains not giving enough room for him to sink lower.

The man turns around and presses a single button on the laptop. The barely-there static of cheap speakers cranked up to their limit fills the room.

Taking a small flashlight out of the pockets of his coat, he grabs Noctis head again, pulling him up by his hair. Noctis doesn’t even try to resist, but his breathing picks up rapidly. For a moment he shines the light into Noctis’ eyes before letting go again.

Prompto can’t guess what was in that syringe, but it’s going to be bad.

He’s is not fast enough to close his eyes again when the man turns around.

Their gazes meet. There’s nothing hiding the man’s features, no scarf, no mask, nothing. Prompto can’t even bring himself to pretend he hasn’t seen anything.

The corners of the man’s mouth twitch up.

“Enjoy the show.”

Even without the gag no words would have made it out of Prompto’s throat.

Frozen in place he watches the man leave the room. The door falls shut behind him, the sound bounces off the empty walls.

Prompto just stares blindly ahead as the man’s voice replayes in his head, his features burned into Prompto’s mind. He didn’t even try to disguise himself.

Despite the elaborate set-up and their relatively good condition, Prompto realizes this is not just a kidnapping. They might ask for money or something else, but they won’t let any of them get out of this alive.

Trying to push down the panic rising in him, Prompto forces himself to go through his options.

They took his jacket, his shoes, the watch on his wrist. He knows before he reaches down that the small chip in the seam of his shirt is gone as well. There are no trackers left, no way to call for help. They are alone in this.

The phoenix down burns against his chest.

 

_October 28 th, 9:10_

His phone is ringing. Gladio takes the call without even looking.

“Tell me you found them.”

For a moment there is only silence on the line. Ignis’ voice is the clinical kind of calm that makes Gladio shiver.

“You need to come back to the Citadel.”

Gladio curses and hangs up.

He takes the next turn with a lot more speed than he should.

Even though he takes every shortcut the way back feels like he’s driving through molasses.

Gladio finds them in one of the conference rooms. Despite a handful of technicians bustling around, the room is dead silent.

The king sits at the head of the table with pale skin and glassy eyes. Gladio’s father stands behind him, one hand firm on his shoulder, his jaw set. Nobody of them has slept last night. It doesn’t look like this will change before they have Noctis back.

Nobody acknowledges his appearance, until Ignis appears next to Gladio seemingly out of nowhere, a laptop under his arm. A glance is enough to make Gladio follow him out of the room.

Ignis waits until the door falls shut behind them before he starts talking.

“We received a flash drive.”

The set of his shoulders already tells Gladio he’s not going to like what’s on it.

They enter an empty room, some spare office for visiting officials. Wordlessly Ignis places the laptop on one of the tables. The video player is already open. Gladio glances at him, but Ignis doesn’t meet his gaze.

As the video starts playing, the first thing Gladio sees is Noctis. He’s kneeling on the ground, his hands pulled up behind him. The quality of the video is good enough to see the tremor in his shoulders and his blown-wide pupils. They drugged him. From the looks of it it’s something strong. Other than that he seems mostly unharmed. His clothes are torn, but the skin visible is intact, not even bruising.

A sound starts from somewhere off-screen. At first it’s just some sort of rustling, like something is dragged across the dirt. Noctis moves his head sluggishly, eyes starting to roam and searching for the source, so it’s not edited in. It gets louder, then there’s the distinct sound of metal blades colliding and sliding off another. Gladio doesn’t know what it all means until a screech drowns out everything else. It’s too wild for a human, too violent for an animal. Some sort of demon then.

Noctis flinches back at the noise, at least as far as he can, head snapping up. He seems to recognize it, even if Gladio doesn’t. Screams and the sound of fighting start shortly after. Noctis trashes in his bindings, but they don’t give. The screech comes back, impossibly louder than before, making Noctis yank at the chains in panic.

It doesn’t stop there. Noctis is fighting harder against the chains. Blood starts to run down his arms from where the cuff cut into his wrists. His breath comes in faster and faster, until Gladio thinks he has to pass out from it. Noctis doesn’t. It probably would have been kinder. The screams in the background get louder until Noctis is screaming with them. Gladio never heard him make a sound like this. His voice breaks at the end, as his head falls back down. His shoulders start to shake and Gladio knows Noctis is crying. Another screech drowns out the rest of the noises, making Noctis’ head snap up again, searching.

Ignis reaches over and stops the video.

On the screen Noctis freezes with pure terror in his eyes and tears running down his cheeks. Gladio needs a moment to tear his eyes away from the screen. The sudden silence in the room feels deafening, but Gladio can’t break it.

Ignis looks away, his mouth set in a firm line. “The demon in the audio is a Marilith, the king recognized it.”

The name of the demon makes Gladio’s stomach sink.

Glancing down at the bar on the bottom of the screen, he sees it’s only been a fraction of the video.

“How long is it?”

“It cuts out after about two hours.”

“Any loops?”

“So far they haven’t found one.”

Gladio’s mind turns the information over and over, refusing to draw a conclusion. They could have sent something else, anything else. Nobody outside the citadel knows he’s missing yet. A strand of hair would have been enough. Instead they did this.

Two hours, no loops.

His eyes turn back to Noctis, forced to his knees, trapped in his worst memories.

“What do they want?”

“Our surrender to Niflheim by tomorrow nightfall.” Ignis swallows once. “They want to end the line of Lucis, one way or the other.”

Gladio can feel rage bubbling inside of him. It’s good. It chases out the shock, helps him to focus.

“Did they get anything from the file? The medium?”

Ignis shakes his head. “The lab is still working on it though. They sent us all the trackers Noctis and Prompto had on them. So far we found nothing helpful yet.”

Gladio hums, his eyes still glued on the frozen picture of Noctis crying. His mind is still churning with all the information, but not uselessly anymore. They could have send a proof of life way simpler. They didn’t need to send a video, they didn’t need to send a video like this one. They knew what they were doing.

Getting the location is still first priority though, finding the ones responsible comes second.

And so far the video is the only clue to the location they have.

“Is blondie in that?”

Ignis shakes his head.

“No and still no trace of him. Someone is waiting at his house, but nothing so far. We can’t reach his parents.”

They both know that reaching them will not help them in any way from what they’ve gathered about Prompto’s parents. Better chances to ask the next best dog owner if they’ve seen him or notice anything strange. They probably would care more, too. Shrugging off the thought, Gladio concentrates on what they can use again. Missing is better than dead.

“If they killed him, they would have sent the corpse instead of his trackers. He could still be with them.”

Ignis nods.

“Apparently there’s another voice at the end of the feed. It’s too short for analysis though.”

“Might still be him.” Gladio knows that’s probably too optimistic for the situation they’re in. He suspects they only took Prompto in case they need something to keep Noctis in check with. Makes sense to keep him close at hand.

He glances back at the screen, then at Ignis who is decidedly not looking at it.

“Anything you need me to be doing right now?”

Ignis has hopefully a lot more knowledge what’s going on in the Citadel, because Gladio isn’t sure what they haven’t tried to find them at this point. He can’t go back driving around the city uselessly, checking more and more unlikely spots. Might as well check the right spot, even if they don’t know where it is yet.

When Ignis shakes his head, Gladio grabs one of the chair and pulls it in front of the laptop.

Settling into the chair, Gladio resets the video.

He can see the exact moment Ignis catches on to what Gladio is up to. The silence turns heavy, but this time Ignis stays quiet.

If this is hard for Gladio, it must be hell for Ignis. Half of Gladio’s training consisted of keeping his head level in exactly these situations. The way Ignis is holding together is beyond impressive. Gladio would tell him, but he doesn’t think that compliment would be received well right now.

“You keep me updated?”

There’s a short moment of hesitation before Ignis nods.

He waits for Ignis to close the door behind him before starting the video again.

 

_October 27 th, 23:56_

The gag moves another little bit. It’s not even an inch, but it’s enough. Prompto manages to push it away a little more and it slips from his mouth. He doesn’t take the time to appreciate the feeling of being able to move his jaw freely and draws a deep breath. It helps that Noctis’ voice gave out some time ago, but the audio is still loud. He doesn’t even know if the microphone is on, but he has to take the chance.

“Empty office, at least five stories above-“

He has to cough once, but then goes on, shouting over the demon and fighting noises. He describes anything he can see, in the room, what it looks like outside, the building next to them, where and when they were taken.  

Not even half a minute later the door opens. Prompto falters once, but doesn’t stop. Instead he turns his head, describing the man coming in. The man meets Prompto’s gaze dead on, burying his hands in the pockets of his coat. He doesn’t even look like he’s in a hurry as he crosses the room.

Prompto can see the kick coming, but he can’t twist away.

The impact knocks the breath out of him. A foot on his shoulder keeps him from curling up.

The man looms over him, his head tilting to the side as he smiles down at him.

“It was just recoding, not transmitting, but nice try.”

Prompto’s stomach sinks. So nobody’s heard him

The audio track cuts out as the man closes the laptop. Without the noise Prompto can hear that Noctis is still crying, his voice only too hoarse to be heard before. 

Instead of taking the laptop the man pulls a set of keys out of his coat pocket. Reaching up, he unlocks the cuffs around Noctis’ wrists. Without the chains, Noctis crumbles forward. The man lets him fall carelessly. Turning around he fetches something else from the messenger bag he left earlier.

It's an empty medical bag hooked up to a needle, then some sort of girth.

Crouching down next to Noctis, the man is quick to wrap the girth tightly around Noctis’ arm.

The man sets a knee on Noctis shoulder as he starts to struggle. It’s enough to keep him down, while the man inserts the needle into the crook of Noctis’ arm.

Blood starts to flow into the bag immediately.

Noctis whimpers softly, his struggling gets weaker.

The bag is nearly full when the man pulls out another one.

Glancing back at Noctis, who is now deathly silent, Prompto starts to panic.

Prompto doesn’t know how much goes into it, but it looks like too much. Too much for a second one.

“Please don’t-“

The words fall from Prompto’s lips, before he can think about it. Pausing with the second bag in his hands, the man turns to look at him. Prompto’s eyes widen as his mouth snaps shut.

The man huffs, almost amused, and turns back to Noctis. Even with the knee off him, Noctis stays still on the ground.

“You’re right. We still need his highness breathing until tomorrow.”

Until tomorrow. The words ring in Prompto’s ears as he watches the needle getting pulled out. There’s a sluggish trail of blood following it, looking stark red against Noctis’ skin.

The man wipes off the medical equipment on the remains of Noctis’ shirt, before glancing over to Prompto again.

“Why would someone like you even be friends with him, huh?”

He doesn’t even have to elaborate what he means. Someone like you, as in obviously not Lucian. As if that would make friendship instantly impossible.

Prompto turns his head away, not answering.

A low chuckle.

“Alright, let’s see how deep that friendship runs.”

He pulls a knife from his belt. It’s big, the kind made for hunting and gutting the game right on the spot.

Slowly he walks over to him

Prompto tries to keep his breathing under control, but it’s not very successful.

The man pulls Prompto up roughly by his wrists, the knife still drawn. Prompto can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut.

There’s no pain though. For a moment he wonders if he only can’t feel it because of the adrenalin.

Something falls down to the floor in front of him and his wrists get released. Only as they drop at his sides, Prompto realizes that they are no longer tied.

He opens his eyes wide, first staring at his hands, then at his captor. The man gestures to the cut rope on the floor between them with his knife.

“You can go.”

It’s a test, as obvious as they come. They won’t let him go, not with everything he’s seen. The stupid, reckless part of Prompto wants to tell him exactly that and spit in his face, but it doesn’t win against the rest of him. Prompto stays on the ground, not moving an inch, and waits for the punchline.

The man gives him a lopsided grin.

“If you do, we’ll kill him right now.”

Prompto doesn’t doubt him in the slightest. Still, he believes killing them both is the plan anyway. Glancing over to Noctis, who has yet to move, the man’s words still find their aim. He can feel the faint shudder running through his body, the tightness around his eyes.

They might die in this. And even if Prompto gets the chance to use the down, it’s only one. He can’t keep anyone from trying again.

The man grins down at him with a sort of sick satisfaction for a few moments, then goes to gather the blood bag with the equipment and the laptop and finally turns to leave.

Pausing in the doorway, he glances back at Prompto.

“You better keep your mouth shut from now on.”

Prompto nods before he can think about it.

The second the door closes, Prompto unties his legs and stumbles to his feet. Noctis is still on the floor, a trail of blood running from the crook of his arm. Prompto falls to his knees next to him. Close up, Noctis looks even worse. There’s a trace of blood on his lips. He must have bitten himself at one point.

Slowly he reaches out.

Prompto’s fingertips barely brush Noctis arm, when Noctis scrambles away from him. At least tries to, his limbs just flail uncoordinatedly. Drawing his hands back, Prompto tries giving him space instead.

“Easy, Noct-“

Before Prompto can say anything else, Noctis’ head snaps up. His pupils are still blown wide. He’s trembling. If it’s from the drugs, the cold or the bloodloss Prompto can’t tell. Noctis stares at him for a long moment, his eyes still bright with tears.

“Prompto?”

His voice is barely there, nothing more than a hoarse whisper. He sounds so unsure, it makes something twist in Prompto’s stomach.

Prompto has to swallow once before he trusts his voice enough to speak.

“Yeah buddy, it’s me.”

Prompto can see a trace of relief wash over Noctis’ face, before the pain comes back. Fresh tears are spilling down his cheeks.

“Prom, I- I can’t move my legs.”

The tone of his voice alone would be enough to break Prompto’s heart.

Only then Prompto really looks down at him. He already suspected Noctis’ legs to be bound, but he not in the way they are.

There are shackles on Noctis’ ankles, just like the ones that held his wrists, with one important change. There’s no chain on them, they’re just bolted to the ground with no room to move.

The cruelty of it strikes Prompto all over again. He only knows about the Marilith attack, because he caught Noctis having a nightmare on one of their sleepovers and was too out of it to stop talking. They never spoke about it again, but the audio track and Noctis reaction was enough to piece together what the goal of that set-up was. And somehow they thought drugging Noctis and making him listen wouldn’t hurt him enough.

 Shaking his head once, Prompto tries to push it all down and smiles reassuringly instead.

“It’s okay Noct, they’re fine. You just can’t move them, because they are tied down.”

Noctis just keeps looking at him with wide eyes, still crying silently. Shit. Prompto exhales shakily. This time, Noctis doesn’t flinch back when Prompto reaches for him.  He runs his hand down Noctis’ side down to his legs as far as he can reach.

“You can feel that, right?” He squeezes Noctis’ thigh, just above the knee. Noctis nods jerkily.

Prompto’s smile is more like a grimace by now, but Noctis is too out of it to notice anyway.

“See, they are fine.”

Squeezing Noctis’ leg again for emphasis he just hopes the drugs will wear off soon. Prompto doesn’t think he can take seeing Noctis like this much longer.

“Let’s get you off the floor, okay?”

Even though Noctis tries to help, getting him upright is hard and staying upright is impossible. Noctis doesn’t say anything, but Prompto can see on his face that his knees have already suffered too much in the last hours to take any of his weight.

He won’t leave Noctis to lie face-down on the ground though.                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Mindful of his legs, Prompto pulls Noctis to the side and slowly lowers him down. He slides down the wall next to him and slips his legs under to place Noctis’ head on his thighs.

It takes a few minutes for Noctis to stop crying, but the shaking won’t cease.

Using what’s left of his sleeve, he starts to wipe at the tear tracks on Noctis’ cheeks. There is nothing else Prompto can do. They need a plan, or at least something close enough to it so Prompto doesn’t freak out and blow their chances.

He spots another camera, right on top of the door with a view of the entire room. So they’ve been watching them the whole time. They still are most likely. It makes sense for Prompto to hold on to the down, considering his relative freedom. So far their captors haven’t paid any attention to it and Prompto needs it to stay like that.

He probably can’t even show it to Noctis without making himself suspicious.

Another shiver runs through Noctis, more violent than any before. Prompto’s hands jerk back in surprise, making Noctis’ breath hitch dangerously. Noctis tries to reach back for him, but his fingers slip off Prompto’s wrist without managing to take hold. Prompto is quick to take his hand instead.

It feels icy.

Prompto clasps it between both of his own, trying to rub some warmth back in.

“I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.”

He doesn’t know if it helps, but after a moment Noctis pushes back harder against him. The shivers are getting worse.

“I’m so cold.”

Prompto can hear the wobble in Noctis’ voice. It tears at him, but he has to keep it together. For both of them.

There’s not much Prompto can do with Noctis’ ankles still bolted to the floor, so Prompto just lies down next to him and pulls him close.

The shivers don’t stop.

 

_October 28 th, 18:47_

Ignis is still clutching the new report in his arms as he stands in front of the door where he left Gladio earlier. It’s not that they didn’t suspect it, but being sure is somehow still worse. The blood they sent was Noctis’. All of it. Ignis only skimmed over the estimated amount, feeling sick enough not to think further about it.

He needs to tell Gladio about it, especially about the message they received after. There’s not much time left. The sun is almost down and they have no clue, no nothing.

Bracing himself, he knocks once and enters.

Gladio is still watching the video. Ignis can only guess how many times Gladio must have seen it by now. Although Gladio stops it only a moment after Ignis’ opened the door, Noctis’ screams are still ringing in Ignis’ ears.

He has to clear his throat once.

“We received another message. This time with a link.”

Gladio is on his feet in a second.

The room they enter is silent except for rapid-fire typing.

As they cut through the room to the workplace Ignis set up for himself, he can’t help but glance at the king again. They’ve made the final decision not to give in to the demands a few hours ago. It’s the logical decision. They can’t give up the whole kingdom for one life, even if it is the crown prince. Ignis just wishes King Regis would not stay to watch this, but Ignis is a hypocrite himself in that sense.

Even if they can’t help Noctis, they won’t abandon him.

Ignis already opened the link on his tablet. It’s a live feed. Nothing has changed in the time he went to get Gladio.

Noctis is at the center of the screen, his arms and legs tied to a chair. The chair is turned a bit to the side, so Noctis isn’t facing the camera directly, but they still have full view of his face.

Ignis can barely look at him. His eyes are red, his lips bitten bloody, exhaustion and pain radiating from him.

The chair is placed in front of large windows. It’s almost dark outside.

They have the best of the best already tracing the feed to its source, but it’s going slow. Ignis knows they are working the fastest they can, but it just feels like they could do more. Like Ignis could do more.

In the far corner of the screen there’s Prompto, kneeling by the windows with his hands tied in front of him. It makes sense for them to show him now. If they go through with their threat, having another hostage prevents the forces from going all out on sight. Prompto doesn’t look injured, but his face is drawn, eyes fixed on something behind the camera they probably can’t see yet.

Gladio takes a careful look at the screen and pulls out folded sheets of paper from his back pocket.

“You have a pen or something?”

Handing one over, Ignis gets a look at the papers. The first one is the report from the analysts about the first video, Ignis brought it over to Gladio himself. The second one is a list, some of the entries already crossed out. Noticing Ignis’ interest, Gladio spreads both out on the desk.

“Just some locations I’ve been thinking about.”

He tabs at some crossed out entries.

“The video cuts off at the voice at the end, pretty inelegant and not like the start. My guess is Prompto is really in the room and saying things that they don’t want us to hear.”

Ignis looks at what Gladio crossed out. Outside the city. He understands.

“We only got the tape this morning. So if Prompto can clue us in enough to make us find them in a few hours, they can’t be too far away.”

Gladio nods, taps at the next entry and crosses it out. Outskirts. “The floor is the same, they are still at the same place. They could have made us chase the wrong lead and waste hours, but they didn’t. So either the fuckers who send the king a two hours long video of torturing his son for no reason didn’t want to get our hopes up or they simply couldn’t move them.”

Even though Ignis poured over the report for hours already, in the light of the new information, as little as it is, it seems different. The analysts suggest a large room, electric lights. If they can see the sunset now, the video must have been recorded last night already. And still they stayed.

Ignis watches as Gladio crosses out a couple of other options, bunkers, factories, warehouses, everything without windows. Ignis suspected some closed off location himself, even underground most likely.

There’s not much left on Gladio’s list and he’s still crossing things out. Ignis glances back at the screen, looking out of the window. They are high up, the building behind them is empty as well. It’s strange.

Gladio crosses the last item off his list with a grunt.

“Basically we’re looking for empty sky scrapers in the city with no people around to hear Noctis scream his lungs out, which don’t exist.”

Gladio is right. Insomnia is extremely dense populated, there’s basically no space left unused. Ignis looks over Gladio’s list again. His eyes catch on something. Warehouses.

It hits him like a slap across the face. Ignis pulls up a map of insomnia on the tablet.

“There’s a strike going on against several large retailers.”

Tapping away on the screen, he sets a mark and zooms in.

“Nuntius’ whole complex is under renovation, the workers stopped in solidary.”

Gladio looks at it contemplating. The complex is large, several high buildings, some warehouses.

“Could be a match.”

Ignis agrees.

He can see that Gladio is ready to move, but they both know for how well their conclusion sounds, it’s just a guess based on another guess. The voice at the end of the video can be anyone, saying anything. They didn’t move locations, yes, but there could be other reasons for that, something they can’t suspect from their limited perspective.

It’s still the best shot they have so far.

“Tell your father where we’re going.”

Ignis gathers his things from his desk, leaving the tablet with the feed out. Gladio is at his side again in a moment.

Gladio left his car rather unceremoniously in front of the Citadel, so they take it. For once Ignis is glad not to drive, setting up the tablet up so he can both navigate the fastest route and keep an eye on the feed.

They’ve been in the car for maybe five minutes, when Ignis gets a new message from Clarus Amicitia.

It’s a location. Nuntius headquarter.

At the same time someone steps into the live-feed. The person is tall, so their face is cut off from the screen, but that’s not what Ignis is focusing in.

There’s a sword in his hands, blade gleaming in the fading light. Noctis slowly raises his head, his eyes widening.

Ignis stops breathing.

“Ignis?”

The sword rises to Noctis’ chest. His hands ball into fists, straining against the bonds.

Slowly the sword pushes forward. Noctis cries out as it sinks into him.

“Ignis what the fuck is happening?”

Noctis’ scream turns into a wet gurgle. He’s coughing up blood, his body jerking, until he suddenly stops.

Ignis can see the tension in Noctis’ body cease, his head falling back, his fists uncurling.

He stays like that, silent, unmoving.  

Ignis doesn’t answer Gladio. He can’t.

They’ve been right. They’re not even ten minutes away, but it won’t be enough.

His eyes are fixed on Noctis’ corpse, pierced by a sword so alike to the ones he saw him practice with just two days ago. They won’t make it in time. Ten minutes are too long.

The stream hasn’t cut out yet. The camera just keeps on filming, pointed directly at Noctis lifeless body. Nothing on the screen moves. Even Prompto is still on his knees at the corner of the screen, doing nothing.

Ignis pushes all the horror and grief clawing at him down. He will have to deal with it later.

Something is off.

Prompto’s not screaming, not crying. He’s not even looking at Noctis. His face stays turned towards the camera, squinting for a moment. He doesn’t even move the tiniest bit, so he’s probably not trying to get a code across. Maybe he’s not looking into the camera, but at the camera itself. It’s probably a laptop or a tablet, directly transmitting the feed.

What is he seeing?

A mirror of the feed maybe, something else on the screen? It has to be something small then, hard to see from Prompto’s distance. Ignis lets his eyes roam over the screen in front of him, trying not to look at Noctis, but to see what’s there. Ignis stops at the corner of the screen. There’s a clock, spelling out the time down to seconds and the time zone. Ignis assumes the captors put it there to tell them it’s really a live feed, to taunt them with how close they are.

Why would Prompto look at this though?

Prompto’s hands are still bound in front of him, but the way they are pressed against his chest seems unnatural. Ignis looks closer. His shirt is ripped in some places where they dug out the trackers. The top buttons of his shirt are ripped off as well, making it stand open a bit. Ignis eyes widen as he recognizes the crude leather cord hidden behind the collar.

Prompto is looking at the time.

He still has the phoenix down.

The feed cuts out.

Ignis takes a shaky breath.

“Gladio, drive faster.”

 

_October 28 th, 19:00_

Prompto keeps count in his head as the man trash the laptop. Prompto’s heart is beating too fast, making him scared of losing the rhythm without the clock in front of him.

It’s been forty-five seconds, maybe, hopefully, and they are not paying him any attention. Why would they, when he’s no threat. He’s been good. He silently sat through everything, didn’t struggle.

He looks at Noctis, the sword still stuck in his chest, his head rolled back, his eyes open and staring at nothing. He forces himself to keep on counting. He can fix this. He has to.

He’s waiting until the first minute is full, but the man won’t leave the room, destroying evidence, talking to other people over the phone.  There’s basically no time left, so Prompto decides just to risk it.

Without a word he gets up from the corner he was left in. Only his hands are bound, so he calmly walks in Noctis’ direction.

He’s not even made two steps, when the voice of the man booms through the room.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Prompto flinches, but doesn’t stop, doesn’t meet the man’s eyes. “I won’t leave him like this.”

He can feel their eyes on him as he carefully sets his hands around the handle of the sword. The sound it makes as he pulls it out of Noctis’ chest is sickening. He lets it fall to the ground carelessly, then starts at the ropes tying Noctis’ wrists to the arms of the chair.

There’s a snort coming from behind him, slicing through the silence.

“Knock yourself out then. You’ve got one minute.”

He knows.

Prompto swallows and goes on. His pulse is beating in his ears, screaming at him to go faster.

The ties on his legs are harder, but Prompto manages. He isn’t particularly careful as he lowers Noctis to the ground. He wants to, but there is just no time.

It doesn’t matter anymore if he is being watched or not, so he pulls out the down from under his shirt. Feeling the eyes of the man on his back, he carefully lifts Noctis’ head to place the cord around his neck.

“Get up, we’re going.”

Prompto quickly grabs Noctis hand and places in over the down. He tries not to dwell on how cold Noctis’ fingers are already as he curls them around it.

The glass breaks just before Prompto is pulled away.

Noctis’ hand falls lifelessly back down. There’s a glimmer of magic, so short he almost misses it although he is looking for it.

The man keeps his hold on him, dragging out the door, before he can even get his feet under himself. Prompto can’t help but stare back at Noctis, praying to the Six that Noctis stays quiet enough for the man not to notice.

And Noctis does. He stays quiet. There’s no twitch in his fingers, no faint rising of his chest. He does nothing.

He wasn’t too late, was he? Three minutes. It’s been three minutes tops, it has to work, right?

Prompto doesn’t have to fake the tears falling from his eyes.

Even if he wasn’t Ignis told him that it’s not that powerful. Maybe with the strain of blood loss and drugs, it just wasn’t enough.

Forcing himself to turn away, he refuses to think further in this direction. It will work, it has to. And as much as he wants to see Noctis waking up, it’s better if they leave him there, so their captor won’t know what Prompto’s done. Killing Noctis a second time will no doubt be final. The question won’t leave Prompto alone though.

They lead him out of the building. Prompto stumbles shortly as he takes in their surroundings. Now that he’s back on street level, he recognizes the area. They are still in Insomnia, right at the center. Somehow it makes everything worse. They are so close to the Citadel and nobody has found them.

A car is waiting in front of the building. Prompto knows as soon as he gets into it, there won’t be even a trace left of him.

Two men get out, all of them dresses in the same way as their captor. One of the new arrivals rounds the car and starts to unload the trunk, pulling out different canisters, the other one approaches them.

Keeping still a hold on Prompto, the man nods back at the building they came from.

“Everything’s clear. You can torch it.”

Prompto’s eyes widen. They can’t.

With the down gone and Noctis still in there, nothing is keeping him from trying to fight. So he does.

He twists out of his hold and grabs the knife from where he knew the man keeps it on his belt. The knife is sharp enough to cut through the rope holding his hands in one slice, freeing Prompto instantly.

Prompto already knows how this is going to end, but he has to try anyway.

They are furious, but need Prompto alive to use as a human shield. Prompto is desperate, but only started training with weapons last week.

He holds out for only a few minutes. They dislocate his shoulder, when they take back the knife. With an aimed kick they bust one of his ankles as they tie his hands behind his back. Prompto keeps struggling though, even as the building behind him is going up in flames.

 

_October 28 th, 19:03_

There is so much pain, he can hardly breathe. It takes a few moments for him to realize it’s not just the pain.

Blinking his eyes open, Noctis sees smoke collecting across the ceiling. His head is still swimming, his thoughts painfully slow, but he knows what that means.

He can’t stay here.

Even though everything hurts, he tries to push himself off the floor. It takes a few attempts to get his body to obey and actually get up. There’s some odd dust clinging to one of his palms, but he pays it no mind. The world around him turns black for a few moments, but he manages to stay on his feet.

He doesn’t recognize the room. His first instinct is reach for his phone, call Ignis. But he doesn’t have his phone. He doesn’t have anything on him. Not even shoes.

His memory is cloudy. Why is he here? He wasn’t alone wasn’t he? Everything he remembers is being scared, so scared he feels like crying just thinking about it.

All his clothes are torn, but there is a leather cord hanging from his neck. It’s not his, he knows that. It looks like Prompto’s, just without the charm. He has to ask him about it. But Prompto is not here.

There’s a sword lying next to him on the ground, a few feet away and still bloody.

He remembers it. How it felt going through his chest, cold and hot with pain at the same time, how his lungs filled with blood until his heart just gave out.

Noctis died.

But he’s still alive somehow.

Noctis is sure about the sword though. He remembers someone stabbing him with it and it hurt so much and then he couldn’t breathe anymore.

And then he stopped breathing.

So he died.

Maybe he’s not alive then.

He looks at the sword again and throws up. There’s nothing in his stomach, so nothing but bile is really coming up. His eyes water by the time his body finally stops.

Straightening up, he feels even more lightheaded. More smoke comes in, even though the door is closed.

He can’t stay here.

But where can he go?

Looking around, he stumbles towards the windows.

It’s a long way down, about seven stories Noctis thinks. Simply jumping is not an option then.

The smoke is getting thicker, making him cough.

His eyes fall back to the sword.

He’s only started to practice warping, but he doesn’t see any other way.

His insides twists as he walks over to pick it up. His hands are shaking so bad he almost drops it instantly. He doesn’t understand.

Trying to calm himself, he takes a deep breath, only resulting in coughing.

He can’t stay here.

The glass of one window to his right already has a large crack, so Noctis uses the hilt of the sword to break it. The air coming in from outside feels nice.

Concentrating is hard, even more with his magic. He’s running out of time though.

He throws the sword out of the window, as straight down as he can. Just before it hits the ground he can feel his magic flaring. His body surges after it, down the building and outside.

Not managing to take a proper hold of the hilt. Noctis crashes to the ground next to the weapon.

For a moment he thinks he’ll just stay here. Everything hurts so much and nothing makes sense. He doesn’t know where he is. Someone must be looking for him then. He doesn’t want to get up though, lying hurts enough already.

The air is clean now, but also really cold. Noctis can already feel himself shivering. What if they can’t find him where he is?

There’s a road not far from him. And there are people. Maybe they know where he is. Maybe they’ve been looking for him.

He pushes himself up on shaky arms until he can get his legs to take his weight.

The road is right ahead. The people are still there.

It takes a few moments for Noctis to truly see what he’s looking at.

It’s Prompto with two strange men. Noctis doesn’t know them. One of Prompto’s arms hangs oddly at the side, the other is twisted behind him as the two men try to stuff him into the trunk of a car. Prompto looks really scared.

With a high-pitched scream Prompto crumbles forward. It’s enough for the men to finally succeed. Prompto disappears into the trunk a moment before they slam it shut.

Noctis grabs the sword again without thinking much and hurls it across the distance.

The sword misses the men and buries itself into the car. Noctis slams into them instead, taking all of them down. His vision shortens out as his head hits the asphalt. He can hear cursing around him, but his body doesn’t want to move. Something wet is spreading across the ground, thin like water, but smelling sharp.

Before he can recognize it, there are hands on his shoulders, pulling him away.

He gets dragged across the ground. His ears are ringing too much to understand what they are saying, but they sound angry. His legs flail after him, unable to get enough purchase.

The air changes, getting warmer and thicker, until he’s inside again.

They drop him just a few moments later. Before Noctis can do anything, he hears a door close. Smoke is all around him now. He coughs, then forces his body to move. Locating the door where he was dragged through, Noctis crawls towards it. It’s hard and it’s difficult to breathe, but he reaches it.

It won’t open. No matter how hard he pushes, it won’t open.

It’s so hot. Noctis coughs harder, unable to draw a breath. He sinks lower to the ground and somehow it helps. The air still feels wrong in his lungs, but without his coughing he can hear noises outside, someone shouting. Noctis can’t make out their words, but the voice is new and he knows them. He’s sure of it. Gathering what’s left of his strength, he gets up to his knees and pound against the door.

He doesn’t know how long it takes, but the suddenly the door moves back. Surprised, Noctis falls forward.

He doesn’t hit the ground. Arms wrap around him, keeping him up. Noctis’ head is suddenly too heavy to look up anymore, but he can see the feathers trailing down a muscled shoulder.

“I got him!”

Noctis flinches at how loud the voice is, but it matches the arm. Gladio. Somehow at that realization, his body stops working altogether. His eyes slip shut as he is unable to support himself any longer.

One arm loosens around him and slips under his knees, then Noctis is being lifted. They are outside again, the air changing from too hot to too cold in an instant. Everything is happening so fast Noctis thinks he’s going to be sick.

He forgets about the nausea, when he hears another voice close by.

“Noct? Can you hear me?”

Forcing his eyes back open, he can see Ignis hovering over him. Noctis tries to reach for him, but his hand is so heavy and Ignis seems oddly far away, even though he is right there. Ignis seems to understand though and takes his hand instead. He places something in it, some kind of vial and wraps both his hands around his and squeezes. The glass breaks, but it doesn’t hurt. It hurts less actually. And Ignis hands are really warm. Noctis doesn’t want him to let go. It feels nice. His eyelids are about to fall shut again, when Gladio shakes him once.

“Don’t sleep yet, princess. Does anything still hurt really bad?”

Noctis frowns, trying to concentrate. His head still hurts and his chest too, but it’s better now, so they can’t mean that. His hand is still clasped between Ignis’ fingers and the parts where Gladio holds him are warm. They are fine. The rest of his body feels strange, floaty, as if it’s not really there. The same strange dust clinging to his fingers is back though. It reminds him of something.

“They killed me.”

When Noctis thinks about it, his chest hurts really bad. His breath hitches, as he looks at Ignis. He can ask him.

“Am I dead?”

Ignis eyes widen.

“You’re not dead, Noctis.”

That can’t be right though. They stabbed him. He stopped breathing. Maybe Ignis doesn’t know that.

“But I died.”

Ignis looks at Gladio for a moment. Something strange crosses his face, before he turns back to Noctis. It scares him.

“Yes, but you are alive now.”

It doesn’t make sense. Noctis tries to work through it, but it just doesn’t make sense. He died, but Ignis says he’s still alive. And Ignis and Gladio are with him and they can’t be dead, so he can’t be dead, too. But he died.

“I don’t understand.”

Ignis shushes him gently.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to. We’re going home now. Your father is very worried about you.”

Noctis nods. Maybe he can ask later again. He really wants to see his dad.

More cars are arriving. Suddenly there are a lot of people and everything is loud. Ignis keeps them away from him though and it’s good. Noctis doesn’t want them to see him. He hides his face against Gladio’s chest as he starts walking to Gladio’s car.

He is lowered onto the backseats. Ignis slips in right next to him, holding him up as Gladio buckles him in, and stays at his side. Noctis lets his head fall on Ignis shoulder, his eyes slipping shut.

By the time they are at the citadel he passed out.

 

_October 29 th, 11:23_

Prompto slowly blinks his eyes open. The white ceiling is a nice surprise, just as the bed he’s lying in. It’s quiet, but the nice kind. He expected darkness, the tight space of the trunk. His heart already speeds up at the thought. He’s so busy not to slip into another panic attack by telling himself he’s not there anymore, that he almost misses the whole point. He’s not there anymore.

Prompto sits up with a start. A few dark spots appear before his eyes, but he can blink them away.

He’s in some sort of medical bay.

The first thing he notices is Ignis sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. He looks exhausted, his clothes stained, but he’s smiling at him. Gladio is leaning against the doorway in a similar state.

“Welcome back, blondie.”

Prompto opens his mouth and completely forgets what to say.

In another bed next to him lies Noctis. His wrists are healed and clean of blood, just as his lip. He looks pale against the sheets, his eyes are closed, but his chest is rising and falling softly.

Prompto is almost too scared to ask.

“How is he?”

Ignis’ voice is calm, softer than usual, and maybe Prompto needs this.

“He’s just asleep. The drugs they gave him are very potent. Combined with the blood loss and all the smoke he inhaled, it will take a little time for him to recover. He already woke up several times.”

Gladio scoffs, grinning at him.

“Yeah and for the first two he tried sneaking out to check the trunk for you. We figured it was easier for you to room together.”

Prompto looks from Noctis to Gladio and back with wide eyes.

His throat closes up.

“So, he’s- is his brain- the marshal said three minutes.” Gladio and Ignis are looking at him funnily now. He has to start making sense. “They closed the laptop.” That doesn’t make sense either.

Ignis seems to catch on despite that.

“He’s got a mild concussion, but other than that they didn’t find anything. The scans are clean and the last time he woke up, he was completely lucid.”

Gladio hums in agreement.

“Noct told us himself that he warped seven stories down out of a burning house. No way he managed that with brain damage, so don’t worry.”

Prompto nods, not looking away from Noctis. The phoenix down worked. Noctis is going to be fine.

He doesn’t know why, but he starts crying. He wipes the first tears away with his sleeve, but they keep coming faster than he can manage.

As the first sob falls from his lips, Gladio leaves his perch at the door.

The mattress dips as he sits down on Prompto’s bed and throws an arm around him.

Prompto wants to stop crying now, but he can’t.

Gladio’s arm is heavy around him. It helps and at the same time it just makes it worse.

“You were incredible, you know that right?”

He doesn’t know. “I only-“ He can’t get the words out, he just cries harder.

A faint groan comes from the other bed.

Prompto can see through his tears as Noctis slowly turns his head towards them. Noctis’ eyes widen as he meets Prompto’s gaze. Instantly he’s pushing himself up and would have succeeded, if not for Ignis hand on his shoulder. Noctis yields, but the worry on his face stays.

“What’s going on? Prom, are you okay?”

Even though the tears keep coming, Prompto smiles.

He is now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> Find me on tumblr @deducitetemporacarmen for low traffic in multiple fandoms and complaining about writing haha


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